Seeking a Connection
by Laurielove
Summary: Hermione is moving on - moving on from Ron, moving on from the past. But someone enters her life who is most definitely part of her past, the last person she expects to connect with. But then, the war changed everyone ... didn't it? A few super hot chapters of super hot Lumione. Lucius/Hermione LM/HG Mature readers.
1. Eyes

**So I wrote this. And there will be more, a few chapters of Lumione sexeliciousness. I missed him. I have other, unfinished business with him in the form of _Through A Glass Darkly_ , but this is what my mind threw at me for now. This is classic angsty, undeniable illicit attraction despite the odds fair. And I f***ing love it. Enjoy. xx**

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The Committee for the Regulation and Assessment of Paranormal Paraphernalia (C.R.A.P.P.) met four times a year at the Ministry of Magic. Compared to the control of Dark Arts materials, there was little for the committee to do. Paranormal activity in the wizarding world was rarely considered a threat, and so meetings of C.R.A.P.P. tended to live up to its acronym.

Hermione Granger was deputising for Harry, who was away in Argentina on an Auror convention, and the tedium of the meeting had quickly lulled her mind into thinking not of Mrs Emmeline Prenderghast's carriage clock which Mrs Prenderghast was convinced was possessed, or Mr Bartholomew Quince's lawnmower which emitted strange noises from the garden shed whenever there was a full moon. Instead, Hermione thought back to her tepidly dull date with Oliver Wood the week before. Why had she ever agreed to it? Perhaps she held out hope that he had retained some of the floppy-haired good looks and drive he'd exhibited as Quidditch captain way back …. whenever.

He hadn't.

He'd given up the Quidditch and moved into the plastics industry. He now knew – as Hermione discovered on the date – an awful lot about enchanted polymers and how they were transforming household packaging, both magical and Muggle.

She'd tried not to yawn, she really had. She hadn't been entirely successful. When he said, 'Don't let me keep you up', she thought it best to make a polite but swift exit.

She'd split up with Ron over a year ago. Everyone said she needed to move on. She agreed with them. She had moved on. Or rather, she was at least over him. She'd ended it, for God's sake, of course she was over him. Did that mean she needed someone else? She rather liked being single. And Ron was no longer an option, anyway; he was away for months on end coaching the national German Quidditch team.

She did, however, miss sex, perhaps the reason she'd got her hopes up over Oliver Wood. No chance there though. Wood by name, definitely not Wood by nature. She smirked to herself and may have emitted a slightly audible throaty chuckle.

'Are you alright, Hermione?'

She glanced up. Silas Mortimer, C.R.A.P.P. Chairperson of the utmost sobriety, was looking at her quizzically.

'Yes. Why?' she responded.

'You made a strange noise.'

'Did I? Sorry. Just a tickle.' She pointed to her throat and forced a cough to cover herself. Mortimer didn't look convinced.

She glanced around the room. The witches and wizards around the table were the most miserable, dry, dull bunch of bureaucrats she'd ever seen. Why on earth did Harry bother with this soul-destroying committee? Something about trying to bridge the gap between generations or something, he'd muttered, if she recalled correctly.

Hermione carried on looking around to pass the time, playing her own game of Spot the Wizard. She identified Caspar Higginbottom. He was in charge of the Chamber of Commerce for Diagon Alley. Next to him was Millicent Hopgirdle, founder member of the Guild of Magical Jam Makers. Then someone else with an enormously hairy wart whom she vaguely recognised but couldn't name. Then a wizard who appeared to be asleep but was the owner of a long beard which lay halfway across the table. Then –

She stopped, staring unblinkingly. The next wizard was someone she recognised all too well. How she had not seen him earlier was beyond her. But then, his presence was so unexpected, so out of context, that she had never once imagined she would see someone like him here.

Sitting just along the table from her, seemingly as unfocused as she on the matters at hand, was Lucius Malfoy.

Her breathing faltered and she found herself unable to look away from him. Was it intimidation? Hatred? She hadn't thought about him for an age. He'd been exonerated after the war, and she'd heard about the break-up of his marriage, but she'd been content to distance herself from any association with that family. The memories were too raw, too painful. He'd been there after all, that night in Malfoy Manor, when Bellatrix had …

She tried to look away. Her breathing came fast now, and with it rose anger. Why the hell did he have to be here? Was it penance for his crimes? Was he forced to sit on committees of mind-numbing tedium as some sort of strange, twisted atonement?

And then he turned his head in her direction and looked straight at her. She was frozen for a moment, his gaze holding her captive as she had been held captive in his house all those years ago. He looked the same as she remembered from a time even longer ago, in the Department of Mysteries the night of Sirius's death, advancing menacingly towards her and the others, effortless in his elegance.

She cursed herself silently. Elegance? What the hell was she thinking? He was, by all accounts, renowned for his good looks, but she'd always shut out such putrid assertions. How could anyone so evil be considered attractive? And yet, as he stared at her now, she still found herself staring back. His eyes were the palest grey, almost transparent, it seemed. She felt as if by looking into them any longer she would be able to see into his very soul. Perhaps she could. Perhaps she should.

'Hermione? Hermione? Miss Granger!' Mortimer was practically yelling into her ear to rouse her.

'Sorry. I … sorry … yes?' she asked, refocusing.

He gave a sigh. 'Do you have anything to add to the decision on the telephone box in Chipping Sodbury?'

'Umm …' What the hell was he talking about?

'Chipping Sodbury! It's possessed! We intend to shut it down using a demystification device. We need your approval. You have been listening, haven't you?'

'Yes, yes of course.' She instinctively glanced back at Malfoy, for some reason finding him the only person in the room that she could actually relate to at that moment. He met her eyes again and a hint of a smirk played around his mouth. 'Yes, shut it down, completely. Take it away. Destroy it. Best thing in these cases.'

'Very well,' said Mortimer suspiciously. She felt rather like she was being told off by the head teacher at primary school. 'That, then, concludes business.'

Thank the gods for that, she thought.

At that, the committee room sprang to life, and witches and wizards who had previously seemed half-dead moved with sudden youthful vigour to get out of the place as soon as was humanly possible. Hermione still had papers strewn all over the place. She was aware of one other person who had not yet left either. He seemed in no hurry. She deliberately did not look up but felt that sinking feeling take hold again. At least, she thought it was a sinking feeling. She certainly had a strange ache in her gut which was only growing stronger. She tried to steady her breathing but failed when she heard footsteps approaching. A long shadow fell across her papers.

'Miss Granger.'

She didn't answer. She kept her head down and tried to stuff her papers into her bag as quickly as she could.

'I have not seen you for quite some time.'

He had a remarkably even voice, she thought. Deep and rich. She closed her eyes against it and leaned on the table, the intensity of her response confusing and frustrating her.

'Yes. Some time,' she said in the hope that would be enough to make him leave.

'Are you well?'

She sighed and at last looked up. She shouldn't have because she met with those infinite grey eyes again. He looked straight at her, barely blinking. She hated him for it. 'I'm fine.'

Hermione forced her head away again and tried to think about what needed to go where. She had completely lost a vital document she needed to hand to the Minister and scrabbled around desperately. 'Oh, bloody hell!'

'Is there a problem?' Malfoy asked.

'I've lost something.'

'Can I help?'

She scoffed out a laugh and looked up at him with a twisted expression of disdain. 'Why the hell would you want to help?'

He pouted a little. 'Common courtesy, some would call it.'

' _Courtesy_? You wouldn't understand courtesy if it came and slapped you in the face.'

'Don't make assumptions, Miss Granger.'

'I'm not making assumptions, Malfoy – I _know_. I've seen you in action for myself.'

'That was many years ago.'

'A leopard can't change his spots,' she practically snarled.

'What a bleak assessment.'

'It's safer that way.'

'Perhaps, but rather dull, don't you think?'

He was standing very close to her. She could smell him. Her breathing was so heavy now that every inhalation caused a rush of his cologne to enter her senses. And he smelt very, very … good.

She huffed in annoyance. 'Look. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I have to leave now.'

He cocked an eyebrow. 'But you're still here.'

She sighed again and glanced at the door, hoping to make a quick escape. The last person to leave had shut it. And she still hadn't found her document. 'Oh, for fuck's sake!' she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled. 'I don't think I've ever seen you flustered. Am I responsible for this, Miss Granger?'

'Don't flatter yourself. I can't find a paper I need, that's all.'

'I offered my help in finding it.' He was toying with her. She detected the bite of amusement lacing his otherwise honey-like tones.

'I don't want your help.'

'Why ever not?'

She took a deep breath and stared up at him. 'Nothing's changed, Malfoy. You're still the same arrogant, prejudiced bastard you always were, and I'm still the little Muggle-born bitch you always hated. Why bother?'

He stared down at her and for a moment she couldn't read him, but then his lips quirked up at the corners and he said, 'How can you be sure?'

She sighed. 'Because I'm _me_. I've been through it, Malfoy. I've been through it all.'

Hermione picked up all her things quickly and moved quickly to walk out. But before she'd gone past him, he grabbed hold of her arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stop her in her tracks. 'And you don't think I have too?'

There was a sudden brutality in his voice which startled her, a shadow of his past. But it wasn't a shadow of fear, she wasn't reminded of the evil he'd once commanded, but rather she was suddenly aware of their shared experience. He released his grip on her arm a little and she could have taken the opportunity to leave, but she did not. She remained there, staring up at him, searching his face.

'You don't think _I_ have been through it all?' he continued. 'Do you honestly think I have been left unscathed by what happened? Unchanged? You are not the only one to have suffered, Miss Granger.'

She swallowed hard, but said with remarkable spite, 'You brought it all on yourself.'

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, and she returned his open stare boldly. 'Go on. _Say it_ ,' he hissed.

'Say what?' she countered. His eyes really were the most crystal grey she had ever seen.

'I _deserved_ it.'

She opened her mouth. He did, didn't he? He did deserve it. He deserved it all due to the evil, manipulative, supremacist filth he had espoused for so long. But her innate sense of doing the right thing consumed her and she remembered what she had fought for. If she wished suffering on another, was she surely not as bad as that person? Two wrongs did not make a right.

She looked him boldly in the eye and said, 'I would not wish that on anyone.'

'Even me?'

'Even you, Malfoy.'

'But you hate me still?'

'Yes.'

His mouth jigged the merest amount but his eyes did not leave hers. 'Even though we were the only two here today who know what true suffering is? The only two who lived through it, the only two out of all the nameless, soulless fools who walk these halls and order and dictate and demand … We, the only two who have known what it truly is to have our souls inspected and twisted and replaced in the shell of our former selves?'

She felt tears forming hot and sharp as he spoke his truth. She tried to blunt it as best she could. 'Not the only two.'

'Where are the others, Miss Granger? Where are they, your friends? In South America? Germany? Where are they when you need them, hm?'

'Let go of me.'

He smirked. 'I'm not holding onto you.'

She glanced down. He had indeed relinquished his hold on her. She tried to steady her breathing but it was no good. She was drawn inexorably back to the diamond of his eyes.

'Did you ever wonder?' he asked, his words potently intimate in the empty room.

'Wonder what?' she murmured, not wanting to humour him with a response, but driven by some oppressive curiosity.

'Wonder exactly what it would be like? A connection?'

'What do you mean? What connection?'

He was so close to her, tall, firm, drawing ever closer it seemed. 'Two people like us, opposed, divided by hate … what if?'

'What if … what?'

'What if it was all a ruse? Our opposition, our hatred. What if this sham of division was just a means of survival, because what we know is so much easier than what we might have to strive to understand.'

'What do you want?' she asked, barely a whisper.

'Want? I want the same as you.' He was closer yet. 'I wonder …'

And his lips were on hers. And she didn't push him away and she didn't pull back. His mouth was soft and warm and very, very human. And despite herself, despite her 25 years of trying to make sense of it all, it felt so good. And she moved her lips under his and curled her hands around his neck and held him to her and his hands came to her waist and pulled her in tight to him.

And they kissed, a long, slow, deep kiss of two fractured souls seeking meaning. His hands moved to her head to turn it gently for him so he could deepen the kiss and when she lost that pressure from her waist, she instinctively pressed herself against him, needing the length and strength of him. She breathed out through him and she breathed him in. He smelt so good and tasted so good and she was drowning in him. And there was a noise outside the door, someone about to disturb them. They both drew apart, not suddenly, not furtively, but they ended it.

She glanced up at him. He looked as surprised as her, but then, as she held his gaze, he smiled softly.

'You see, Miss Granger?' he said. 'Connection.'

And, just as the door opened and a clerk came in, he picked up his robes and left the room.

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 **As usual, feedback is absolutely glorious. Thank you, lovely people. More soon. There will be smut. Quite a lot, I fear. I'm in one of those moods. Don't forget to like my facebook page, Laurielove, for updates and fun. LL x**


	2. Fingers

**Thank you for all your reviews. I hadn't realised how much I missed these two. I am LOVING writing for them again.**

 **Let's just turn the heat up a little, shall we?**

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Hermione would just pretend it hadn't happened.

That was it. Forget it. Just forget anything had happened.

Forget she could have drowned in those hypnotic eyes; forget his rich, silken voice which seemed to slide right into her being and resonate deep in her soul; forget that his sheer physicality had compelled her into him; forget that when he kissed her she felt more conviction, more absolute pleasure than she could recall for an age. Forget that it felt so entirely good. Forget that she wanted ...

Forget it …

 _Forget it_ …

She glanced at the clock. 4:02 am.

She'd been trying to forget it throughout her whole sleepless night so far. Hermione rolled onto her back with the deepest sigh. She'd try some more tomorrow.

-xxoOoxx-

As she strode through the gleaming black Ministry corridors the next morning, she did forget it for a moment. After finally managing to get that paper she'd been searching for to the Minister, she hadn't thought about Lucius Malfoy's body or mouth or hands or eyes for all of three minutes. That was a start, she thought.

But when she reached her office and sat staring blankly at the latest reports on werewolves in Slovenia, her mind drifted again, and that feeling inside returned. _Connection._ Was he right? How dare he be right? She'd kissed Lucius Malfoy, for fuck's sake! What the hell was wrong with her? And why did it have to feel so bloody perfect?

She dragged her fingers through her hair and gave a sigh which turned into a wail of frustration. Reaching for a quill, she set about eradicating the encounter from her mind. She wrote quickly, desperately, signing and sorting with ruthless efficiency. It seemed to be working. She barely heard the knock at her door. She barely heard herself call, 'Come in.' She barely glanced up when whomever it was came in, shut the door and stood before her desk.

'A moment, thank you,' she mumbled. She carried on writing. It was working. She was getting on. Forgetting it. Head down, keep writing.

The person who'd come in gave a slight cough. She'd better see what they wanted.

She looked up.

Lucius Malfoy was standing in her office.

'Oh.' That was all she managed. She stared, just as she had the previous day, unable not to. He stared back, his face quite serious, no discernible expression evident, but his eyes were as brilliant as they had been before.

'Good afternoon, Miss Granger.'

She managed to close her mouth, which had been hanging open like a gasping fish, but she could say nothing else.

She swallowed hard. He was dressed all in black as usual, but had dispensed with his outer robes. He wore instead a tailored coat, similar to a frock coat and cut square across the shoulders. It made him look – at this she drew in a breath as immediate desire writhed within her – totally and completely stunning.

'Can I help you?' she said, adopting her best bureaucratic monotone.

'Most certainly.'

'You need paperwork, presumably?'

His lips curled slightly. 'Not as such.'

'Why are you here then?'

'I think you know the answer to that, Miss Granger.'

She sighed and brought her head down, pretending to refocus on her work. 'It didn't happen.'

'Ah. Denial. How predictable.'

'If there was nothing else, Mr Malfoy, I have work to be getting on with. Goodbye.'

He didn't leave. She glanced up. 'You're still here.'

'How observant.'

'I asked you to leave.'

He frowned as if taking mock offence. 'You're very rude.'

She stood up, tension gripping her, and leaned forward on her desk. 'I need you to go. What happened yesterday was stupid, weak and crazy. I was mind-numbingly bored in that bloody meeting and … and … it just happened.'

'Because you were bored?'

'Yes.'

She threw her hands out in despair and paced across the room, folding her arms in front of her. Still, he didn't leave. She turned to him in frustration. 'Why are you still here? Just go! Go, will you? Get out!'

'No.'

'I've told you to.'

He still stood quite calmly before her. A slight smile played around his mouth but his eyes burned with an almost severe seriousness. 'Ah, but you see, there's something I need to do.'

'What? What do you need to do, Malfoy?' She paced over, leaned back against her desk, arms still folded, and glared at him furiously.

He took a step into her and looked down from that glorious height. 'I need ... to touch you.'

The leap of desire threatened to upend her. 'Wh … what?' she stuttered.

'I need to touch you. I want to feel you, to know you.'

'You … you can't say that.'

One of those elegant eyebrows rose up. 'I just did.'

'You can't. You _can't_ just say that!' But why was his blatant honesty making her weak at the knees, making her stare into him and fall into those eyes again and make her want and want and want? She tried again. 'I could report you for harassment.'

He pouted. 'You could … but as this is an entirely mutual enterprise, I doubt you will.'

'It isn't mutual,' she tried, knowing she was spouting bollocks.

He merely smiled. 'When we kissed yesterday – and hear me when I say that I have not indulged in such tender intimacy with anyone for some time – when we kissed … it was a moment of sheer beauty. Do you know why?'

She shook her head. He continued. 'Because it was a catharsis. But the wounds are still there, Miss Granger, the wounds are still raw and open. They need to be healed. Sometimes, the healing process can be painful in itself … but it is so very, very worth it.'

He stepped in closer and lifted a hand to touch her face. His fingers were strong and warm as he cupped her cheek. His thumb smoothed over her cheekbones, staring at each part he touched as if absorbing her into him. She couldn't pretend any longer; she longed for it. She longed for him.

The tip of his forefinger traced a path over her bottom lip and she parted her lips and let her tongue dart forward to touch it, taste it – slightly salty. He paused and she opened her mouth to entice more. He edged his finger in. Malfoy watched intently, his own mouth open in concentration. Then, staring up at him until his eyes met hers, she closed her lips around his finger and sucked. After a while, he nudged her mouth open again and she let him push his middle finger in to join the other. Her tongue rolled and pulled on his fingers, enclosed in the cossetting warm wetness of her mouth.

She did not break eye contact and continued to suck hard, enjoying the slight pain when the knuckles caught the roof of her mouth. Then, when she had imprinted him onto her, she let her mouth hang slack. He dragged his fingers out, as deliberately as he had penetrated it, pulling her bottom lip, red and full, with them. His fingers gleamed with her spittle. Then, with slow deliberation, she took hold of his wrist and pushed his hand down to where she needed it. Still staring fully into him, she said, 'Touch me.'

He leant forward inexorably and their mouths met again, hot and open this time, tongues meeting and possessing, teeth scratching, scraping, lips bruised. He was pulling up her skirt, pushing down her knickers, and just before his damp fingers found her, he drew back and they locked gazes. Her mouth was slack now, her focus shifting down, down to the heavy, dripping need between her legs.

He didn't keep her waiting; neither of them could wait. She shifted her legs apart to make it easier, swifter, and his fingers found her: wet, ripe, swollen with need. He touched her soaking lips, forged a channel through them, and found her clit instantly, compressing it almost painfully hard and getting the reaction they both craved. She gasped in and her eyes widened. He rubbed. Her mouth slid into a lazy smile of pleasure.

'Yes, yes,' he hissed, circling and grazing her clit with the exactitude they both needed. She clung to his shoulders, gripping him with an almost claw-like ferocity.

'Tell me what you want,' he insisted.

'Inside me … reach up inside me. I want that. I want you to feel me. Inside me. Hurry.'

He drew his fingers away from her clit and angled them under her before pushing two hard up, right up inside. He tapped, stroked, pumped, scissored them deep within her starving pussy. 'Yes, that … Oh God, yes, that.'

'Hell take me, you're wet,' he said, barely able to speak as he worked his fingers ferociously within her. 'I've got to see you come. I have to see you and feel you.'

She groaned with the beauty of it and sought out his mouth again. He kissed her brutally, as brutally as his fingers occupied her sex. While his fingers were still embedded up in her, his thumb found her clit again and rubbed and circled it, pressing, demanding, extracting. She moaned into him as pleasure built and stretched, tingling, brewing inside her. 'Harder, harder,' she begged. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers, but still he rubbed and circled her clit so desperately that at any other time she could not have taken it. Now, she would die without it.

'Come, come, come,' he repeated endlessly through gritted teeth, urging her to climax, stopping his mantra only when she took his mouth with hers again, needing that intimate closeness.

And there –

She broke away from the kiss to gasp as an orgasm shattered through her. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. It was always strong for her standing up, but this climax felt as if it was ripping through her very bones. She shook on him, grinding herself against his fingers for support as much as touch. Her hand dug into his shoulders and she wailed it out. He kept on rubbing and the extreme, painful sensitivity only brought another wave of ecstasy washing over her. Her head was flung back and she sobbed aloud as her limbs jerked out their abandon.

Hermione lay back, legs sprawled, body skewed across her desk.

He had just given her the best orgasm she could ever remember and he hadn't even unzipped his trousers. She spread her arms over the desk, knocking her quills to the floor, and panted out her bliss in short, delirious gasps.

After some time, she managed to force herself up into something resembling upright.

'I …' she started, but there really was nothing to say.

Lucius pulled out his fob watch and cocked an eyebrow. 'Oh, look at the time. I really must be going.' He moved his gaze back to hers and smirked.

'But … you haven't …'

'I haven't …?' he invited.

'It was a bit … unbalanced. I can –' Her gaze moved instinctively between his legs. His trousers were clearly tenting out.

He grinned. 'Oh, Miss Granger, you really are frightfully _nice_ , aren't you? Such touching concern for others. I told you what I needed then. I am more than satisfied, believe me.' He turned and walked towards the door.

'But … Is that it?'

He turned back briefly and said, 'For now,' before heading out.

Hermione looked blearily over her papers now strewn across the floor. She brought one hand up to her dishevelled hair and another to her kiss-bruised lips.

It might be a little trickier to forget about than she'd thought.

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 **And it's all just going to get even trickier ... More soon. LL x**


	3. Hands

**Onwards. This chapter is a first for me. Strangely, I've never before written a scene involving the sexual act which occurs here. And I really, REALLY loved writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much. It's intense, explicit and filthy. You've been warned. ;-) Happy New Year. LL x  
**

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They hadn't made further arrangements to meet. They hadn't exchanged numbers (Lucius Malfoy did not have a 'number'), nothing, but in the wizarding world, if you wanted to accidentally-on-purpose bump into someone, it could easily happen.

Diagon Alley was usually the place for this, as Hermione was well aware one Tuesday morning a week and a half after Lucius had given her the strongest come of her life on her desk.

She saw him by chance from the far end of the street. She almost lost him in the crowd, but her legs carried her with almost unseemly haste closer to him. She considered leaving it, turning away and going about her proper business, but her body had other ideas. Logic screamed at her to ignore him; lust compelled her on.

He was looking in the window of Flourish and Blotts. She approached silently and stood beside him, not close enough to appear intimate – she was at least one and a half feet away – but close enough to make her presence felt. At first, he didn't see her, but, just as she feared he'd move on without noticing at all, he turned a little in her direction. She stared straight ahead and focused on a copy of Millicent Marjoram's _Meringue Magic_ , forcing herself not to throw herself over him there and then.

'What are you doing here?' he asked at length, his voice even to the point of disinterest. It made her want him even more.

'I'm shopping.'

'As am I. I have a busy day, Miss Granger.'

Silence held them for a moment before she managed, 'Do you have time?'

'Do I have the time?' He glanced down at his watch. 'Yes. It's twenty-five to twelve.'

'I don't mean that,' she urged in frustration. 'You know what I mean.'

'I can imagine.'

'Don't you want to imagine?'

'I will confess to imagining little else over the last few days.'

Her belly leapt in anticipation. 'Well then …'

'We should, however, exercise caution.'

'You didn't say that in my office the other day.'

'Well, we were, after all, in your office. Here, we are in the middle of a very public street. And we are – a little flattery here – _recognisable_.'

She was growing desperate. 'I need to see you.'

'See me? You can see me. I'm standing right next to you.'

'I mean see … _you_. Last time … you didn't … you know …'

'Say it.'

She glanced around and whispered through gritted teeth, 'I can't speak too loudly! Like you said, people must already have noticed us next to each other!'

'Stare straight ahead, look intently into the window … and _tell me_.'

She drew in a deep breath and steadied herself, staring back through the pane of glass. 'I want to see … your, your _cock_. I want to feel it.'

'Anything else?' he crooned. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

'Everything else.'

'Patience, Miss Granger.'

'I've been patient. I've tried. I've tried to move on.'

'But here we are now. Is this an entirely chance encounter?'

'Sort of.'

'Sort of?'

'I didn't know you were going to be here, but … I saw you from the other end of the street a while ago.'

'Miss Granger … were you … _following me_?' he teased.

'You can call me Hermione, you know.'

'Oh, but we've only just got onto speaking terms. I wouldn't want to seem forward, Miss Granger,' he smirked.

'You fingered me on my desk the other day, Malfoy. I think you've gone beyond seeming 'forward'.'

He gave a low chuckle. 'We can't stand here for much longer. I can almost hear the whisperings. And, as much as I enjoy our little _connections_ , it would be wise to avoid any … embarrassment.'

'You mean the embarrassment of people knowing you've been with a Mudblood?'

'I equally imagine you would not be too thrilled for your friends to find out you've been with a Death Eater.'

'You're right. We really shouldn't be doing this. I can't believe it. It's madness.' She was almost in tears at the surreal situation she found herself in, but his physical presence was too perfect, too magnetic for her to listen to reason. 'I've tried. I've tried to stop.'

'Well, in that case, I suppose this is goodbye then.' And he actually turned away to leave. She only just managed to stop herself from grabbing onto his arm to prevent him.

'No! … Please!' she implored.

' _Please_? You really are in need, aren't you? Miss Hermione Granger is begging me.' The self-satisfied lilt in his voice only seemed to spur her on.

'You want it as much as I do, you know you do. Can we … please? Just quickly, somewhere, quickly, just … let me, please. Just … this way, follow me. Promise me you'll follow me.' She turned quickly from him and hurried down the first alleyway she came to, desperately hoping he'd follow. She glanced behind her when she reached the end. He was only just making his way down the alley, frustratingly slowly, but he was there. She turned left again into a deserted courtyard – it seemed safe enough – and muttered a quick concealing charm for safety's sake. It wasn't fool proof but it would buy them time.

After what seemed an age, he appeared, glancing around dismissively. 'Are you in the habit of hanging around in the slums, Miss Granger?'

She stepped up to him, resisting touching him despite her lust threatening to careen from her. 'Lucius … I have to. Last time, I hated finishing it there. Hated not reciprocating, not knowing …'

'Not knowing what?'

She glanced down at his crotch and noticed its prominence. It emboldened her and she turned her eyes up seductively to him. 'Let me hold you …' She brought her hand to his chest and, not breaking her gaze, dragged it down, running it over the hardness at his groin. Her eyes widened. Considerable hardness.

He glanced around him, aware of the precariousness of their surroundings. 'Someone could see us at any time. There are windows everywhere.'

'I've used a cloaking charm. It'll last for a few minutes. I have to do this. I have to see you. Let me. Quickly, just let me hold you, let me see.' Her words were rushed through her snatched breaths as she stroked over the concealed rigidity of his cock. He sucked in sharply and held her gaze, not stopping her. She quickly undid his belt and buttons and opened the front of his trousers. She breathed in in delight. He was wearing no underwear and what sprang out was more than even she'd imagined.

Without hesitation she spat on her hand and closed it around the shaft. Malfoy hissed. She explored him gently at first, running her fingers along the length then letting them glide carefully over the head. His lust leaked onto her hand and she used it to her advantage, gathering it up before taking a firmer grip and running up and down the shaft more concertedly.

'You're beautiful,' she murmured, establishing a rhythm, two fingers curled around, tight enough to catch his breath, smooth enough to glide. She would stop when she reached the circumcised head, knowing that the nudge against it would torment him. She glanced up, not slowing her strokes, but keeping them steady enough to eke it out. It was a large cock, thick and long. She knew it would be. As much as she craved it in her mouth, in her pussy, she would wait. For now, she would give. They were exposed, they were in the open. The charm wouldn't last for long. Anyone could find them, anyone could see. But she couldn't stop.

She plied him, curling all her fingers around him now and luxuriating in the give of the skin, tight around the rigid core. He was breathing heavily, his bright eyes glazed. She let her own breath meet his and held his gaze while her hand slowed for a while, giving him a moment's respite to let anticipation simmer. She glided her fingertips so softly he would wonder what was real or not. But when her forefinger ran from the ridge at the front right over the head, tracing through the slit, pressing in just enough to confuse pain with hope, he sucked in sharply and glared at her with vicious need. Meeting his stare defiantly, she then looked down. Her lust had made her mouth water and, holding his cock firmly in position, she parted her lips and spat down onto it. Her spittle landed audibly on his cockhead and drew a moan from him. She gave him her lips, kissing him so hard it hurt, but it brought a rush of fresh moisture into her mouth and so she did it again. Breaking away from his lips, she looked down, opened her mouth and let her spittle drip onto him, where it oozed down his cock like glaze on a cake.

With a smile of triumph she drew her fingers idly around to coat him fully. He swallowed, a guttural noise, low and thick in his throat, and the slit released more and more of its own lubricant. She spat out once again until his cock and her hand were soaked in warm, sliding wetness. The air grew thick with the slick, sucking sound of her hand milking his cock.

She began to draw her fingers up over the ridge repeatedly, causing him the sharpest intake of breath. 'Fuck it! Fuck it, you witch! That's too good. You're too fucking good,' he groaned and threw his head back, his Adam's apple lurching. It was too tempting not to lean in and kiss his neck. She sucked on the smooth warm skin, licking, tasting him. Her teeth grazed as her palm now glided over his soaking cockhead, which now leaked constantly with expectation.

'Hard, harder!' he demanded. 'Grip me as tight as you can!' So she did. She took hold of the shaft and pumped violently, right up and over the head with each pass, knowing he could take it, knowing he needed it. Her teeth dug – sharp but sweet – into his neck, biting, not hard, but the thrill of bestowing a hint of pain drove her on. He swallowed back a guttural cry and her hand squeezed and plied: rhythm, pulse, gliding, stroking, gripping, squeezing … rhythm, pulse, rhythm.

'Look at it, look at it!' he said, his words tight with agonised desperation. She tore her eyes down to his engorged, brimming cock. She'd never held anything more beautiful.

'Come on, come on, come for me,' she implored, milking pleasure with delicious brutality from the glorious object in her hand.

Malfoy threw a hand against the wall to steady himself and a groan started within him. He could have been in pain, such was the sound forced out of him, and with it, he exploded. She stared as out of the full, smooth flesh, burst shots of pure white come, accompanied by his litany of wordless groaning. She tried to catch it all in her hands, to feel it, but some landed on her shirt, some on the ground. She couldn't remember a man ever coming so much for her.

For a time they couldn't move: she, hands covered in his seed; he, panting, lost in the strength of his come.

Slowly, she lifted up her hands. They dripped with him. She let it slide along her fingers, rubbing them together and coating them. But then, not wanting to lose any of it, she looked straight at him and brought her hands to her mouth. She opened it slowly, deliberately, extended her tongue. She licked along her right forefinger first, gathering up the salty whiteness before sucking it clean. Then, still looking at him, she did the same again and again. Each finger in turn she licked and sucked clean, slowly, idly, letting his release ooze onto her tongue before closing her lips around each and cleansing them. Never had spunk tasted so good.

When she had at last finished, he took hold of her head and kissed her, forcing her mouth open, taking some of him back from her. If she could have vanished into him, been absorbed into him at that moment, she would have.

They pulled away at length and stood staring at each other, trying to make sense of it all. It seemed an age before they both recovered. But, at last, he stood up tall.

'You, Miss Granger, are rather glorious. And just think …' He stared down, a smile of appreciative arrogance etched on his face. '… we haven't even fucked yet.'

And, even after what she'd just done, hearing Lucius Malfoy say 'fucked' was the most erotic moment of her life. She knew then that she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to.

He smirked, tucked his cock back into his trousers and did them up. ' _Yet_ ,' he reiterated before turning and walking from the alley.

* * *

 **Holy f**k, Lucius. After our long acquaintance, you still manage to turn me on and on and on.**

 **If you're not too red with embarrassment, I would really love to know what you thought of this chapter. It's one of 'those' chapters for me. I've written more sex scenes than I can count, but this one felt pretty special.**

 **Also, if you follow me on Facebook you'll know this already: I'm asking for ideas for sexual situations to include in this story. I don't mean whole story ideas or anything that won't fit in with the direction I've already taken this. I literally mean sexual acts, places, kinks, whatever that you'd like to see here. You don't have to give me lots of details, that's my job, but enough to convey any fantasies or situations you've imagined but have been too shy to say. You can PM me, review anonymously (someone's done this - it's a great idea!), use Anonymous on Tumblr (I'm laurielover1912), whatever. Your anonymity will be safe with me, trust me. And I'd LOVE to include your ideas if I can. Can't promise I will, but I've already had some which have really inspired me. Looking forward to hearing from you. Don't be shy; I'm nice! LL x**


	4. Voice

**Here you go. Enjoy. Plenty more to come. Lots of love, LL x**

* * *

When Hermione got into work the next day she had only been settled at her desk for a few minutes when an owl swooped in, dropped a letter on her desk and fluttered out again.

The postal system usually intercepted the owls and delivered letters manually, so this one had somehow sneaked through.

On it was simply written, 'Miss Granger.'

Her lips ticked into a smile and she pulled the envelope open with hasty fingers.

' _The telephone boxes on Langham Place. 3:45pm._ '

That was all. She turned it over, hoping for more. Hermione held the note to her nose and inhaled, wondering if his scent lingered. She thought perhaps she could smell the aroma of sandalwood and musk, but it may have been wishful thinking.

It had to be from him. Who else? But why meet at a telephone box? Why would Lucius Malfoy want to spend too long in the Muggle world?

She glanced at the clock: 10:20. A deep sigh escaped her. Over 5 hours. She could already feel that heavy pull between her legs. She sat and instinctively rubbed them together, trying to ease the frantic lust which had threatened to upend her in recent days.

She ate lunch hastily in the Ministry canteen and deliberately prolonged meetings with the Auror committee in order to try to pass the time quickly. Finally, at 3:00, she could go. She exited the Ministry through the fireplaces and caught the Muggle tube to Oxford Circus where she quickly headed down Langham Place.

She could see three red telephone boxes as she walked, trying not to appear too desperate. It was only twenty to four. She couldn't see him being early.

There was no sign of him as she approached. Her heart sank a little. Perhaps one of the phone boxes was enchanted. Perhaps if you went into it, it transformed into a luxurious sitting room or bedroom where they could …

She tutted to herself. She still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that she was doing what she was doing with Lucius Malfoy and reminded herself that she probably shouldn't even be there.

A few minutes passed. She wasn't quite sure what to do. She stared up and down the road, willing him to appear. He didn't. She wished she had one of those Muggle mobile phones so she could take it out and stare at it like all the Muggles did so that they could look popular and busy when they actually had fuck all else to do. Instead, she just stood there looking like an idiot.

She glanced at her watch. 3:42. A woman in clicky heels clicked past her, giving her a frosty look of disdain. Hermione crossed her arms and turned away.

3:43. No sign.

3:44. She was biting her nails. She hadn't done that since she was a kid. And all the while that twisting turning was happening inside her. Her desire was so strong she could practically feel his hands on her, his mouth ghosting over her flesh, feel him inside her, filling her. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her body's demands.

3:45. She looked to the left. Nothing. To the right. He wasn't there.

For fuck's sake! If he said 3:45, he should bloody well mean 3:45.

Something impinged on her concentration, something behind her. She tore herself away from staring up and down the street and looked round. The telephone in the box behind her was ringing.

She tutted and turned away, trying to ignore it. Who the hell would ring a public phone without anyone around to answer it?

She stopped.

Her heart had suddenly begun a frantic tattoo in her chest.

For some reason she felt guilty. She waited for a pedestrian to pass and then opened the box of the phone that was ringing and stepped in. With trembling fingers, she lifted the receiver to her ear.

'Hello?'

'Miss Granger. I thought you'd never answer.' Her insides leapt at the first sound of his inky voice.

'I was expecting you to actually be here.'

'In the flesh?'

'Yes.'

'Well … it's always wise to employ the element of surprise, I've learned.'

'I didn't think you had a phone.'

'You were wrong.'

'Clearly.'

'Are you well?' he continued, as smooth as if pouring her a cocktail of words.

'Fine.'

A slight pause before he added, 'Aren't you going to ask me how I am?'

She huffed a little at his obtuseness. 'How are you?'

'Very well.'

Hermione looked out. It had started to rain. Drops fell increasingly heavily on the panes of glass of the phone box. Her breath was clouding the glass but she did not wipe it away. 'Why are we doing this? What do you want?'

'I want you to talk to me.'

'About what?'

'Anything you wish, although I would mostly like you to talk about … what you'd like me to do to you.'

A couple walked past. She couldn't help but blush and turned her back on the street quickly. 'Umm …'

'I'm waiting.'

'God, Lucius, this is ridiculous.'

'Perhaps,' he crooned, 'but still very desirable.'

'This is crazy. There are people everywhere.'

'You're enclosed, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'Well then.'

She bit her lip, the ache in her belly twisting and turning with need. 'Lucius …?'

'Yes?'

'I wanted to see you. I wanted to touch you.'

'Go on.'

'Oh bloody hell. I want you here.'

'And if I were there, what would you do?'

She rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, picturing him. 'I'd lean into you, take a deep breath, inhale you. I'd just feel your presence beside me first. Just absorb it, feel the heat of you, the strength of you …'

'And then?' he purred. His voice may as well have been his tongue running over her heated flesh.

'I'd run my hands up your chest, starting at your waist then running up.'

'Slowly?'

'Very slowly.'

'Then?'

She brought a hand to her lips and ran a finger over the bottom one, plump and needy. 'Kiss.'

'How?'

Her lust brought with it a heady boldness. 'I'll open your mouth with mine, take your mouth, use it. Work my tongue on yours, disappear into you.'

There was the slightest pause. 'Oh, you are so very good. More.'

'Always more. I want you, I want you, I want you.' She squeezed her eyes shut and implored him down the phone. She was past pretence. Desire had never been so totally dominating and overwhelming. She physically ached with not having him.

'What exactly do you want, Miss Granger?'

'I want your cock. I want your cock so much.'

'I gathered as much the other day. Wasn't that enough for you?'

'No. I want it inside me. I want it deep inside me, right up, filling me, crammed into me, making me scream, making me crave it and yearn for it and making me want it in me forever.' She breathed her truth down the line to him, picturing the full glory of his erect cock as clearly as if it was right there in front of her.

'What a greedy thing you are.'

'Yes. Greedy for you, Malfoy. Greedy for your cock.'

'Miss Granger, do you employ this sort of language in your dealings with our illustrious Minister for Magic? How does he respond? Most likely with enthusiasm.'

His distractions drove her mad. 'I want you to fuck me. Please, please fuck me.'

'That might be a little tricky over the telephone.'

'Why aren't you here? Why aren't you here now to fill me? I'm so fucking empty, Malfoy. I'm so fucking empty and I need you.'

There was a slight pause. She heard his intake of breath before he hissed, 'Fuck it, witch, you are too good. I'm as hard as fucking rock for you.'

She gripped the telephone in both hands. In the absence of his cock, she needed something to cling onto. 'Tell me, Malfoy. Tell me you want it as much as I do.'

'You know I do.'

'Say it, Malfoy. Tell me how you want to fuck me.'

'I won't be gentle. The first time. I'll take you hard.'

Her lust raced through her, making ripples of pleasure cascade through her belly. 'Yes. Do it.'

'I want to be inside you as much as you want me there. So I'll get at you. I'll rip your clothes from you if I have to.'

'Fine. Just pay for new ones. Where do you want me? Tell me. Will you take me from behind, hey? First time? How, Malfoy, how?'

She could hear his own breath quickening. 'No. I want to look at you. I want to see your eyes when you come. I want you staring into me when I empty my cock inside you.'

'Yes. I want that too. I want that.'

'On the ground. You're on the floor. There's nowhere else for us to go. I can't lose you there. Your legs are spread for me. I lift one onto my shoulder, opening you as much as I can.'

'Feel me first, Malfoy. Feel how wet I am for you.'

'I run my fingers along you, push them deep inside.'

'How many?' she demanded.

'Two, three perhaps, if you're wet enough.'

'I'm fucking dripping, Malfoy. You've done that to me.'

'Yes, of course you are. I push right up and your cunt sucks on my fingers like a mouth.'

Hermione clung to the receiver and ground her legs together, desperate for some relief. She stared blankly through bleary wetness of the panes of glass as he continued pouring his intoxicating filth into her ear.

'I'm going to come, Malfoy. I think I'm going to come just talking to you.'

'Don't you dare, witch. I want to be there to see it. Are you touching yourself?'

'No. I can't here. There are too many people. But I want to, I want to so much I'm in pain.'

'Good.' She practically heard his satisfied smile down the phone.

'You bastard. You fucking bastard. Tell me more.'

'I take out my fingers. They're soaked with you.'

'Suck them. Taste me.'

'Of course.'

She practically sobbed. 'Please hurry.'

'I take hold of my cock. Fuck, I'm hard, crying out for entry. I lean down to you.'

'In, in, in, in me, please, please, into me.'

'Patience.'

'No! Now!'

He gave a short chuckle but then, 'I drive in, straight in, deep in as hard as I can. Right fucking into you.'

'Yes!'

'Are you full?'

'So full. So fucking full of you. You're big, Malfoy. I know that already.'

'And you're tight.'

'And so wet, so fucking wet for you.'

'Gods, you grip me.'

'Yes, I'll grip you. I'll grip you and hold you inside me. I need it, I need it now. I need your cock.'

'I move in you, not slow, not this time, there's time for deep, slow fucks later. Not this time.'

'No, not this time. Fuck it into me this time. Fuck me hard and fast.'

'Gladly.'

'Pound me. Make my back arch to take you.'

'I keep going, thrusting into you, driving forward, taking your cunt time and time again and you take me each time. You take me so deep I think I'll disappear into you.'

'I love it, Malfoy. I love it. I hold onto you. I hold onto your arms so hard I scratch.'

'Yes, do it. It makes me fuck you harder.'

'As hard as can. As hard as you want.'

'As hard as _you_ want.'

'Make me come, Malfoy.'

'I fuck and I fuck and I fuck you. I find your clit. My thumb works your clit and soon you're coming. You're coming so hard I feel it squeezing my cock.'

'Yes, yes, that's it. Now come into me too.'

'Can't stop it,' he states.

'You don't have to. Give it to me.'

'I come so fucking hard I lose myself in you. It shoots out of me, deep into you, deep, plugging you, cramming into you. And still I move, keeping it in there, not letting you lose me.'

'No, let me take it, let me take it all.'

'And it ends. It has to. We're joined and wet and full of each other.'

They stopped talking. She grasped the receiver as if she'd collapse if she didn't. She rested back against the glass, eyes closed, taking deep recovering breaths.

After a time: 'Miss Granger?'

'You'd better come and fuck me soon, you bastard.'

And she hung up.

* * *

 **Who doesn't love a bit of phone sex. Thoughts if you have a moment? Working on all your fabulous suggestions, btw. xx**


	5. Hips

**Sorry for the wait.**

 **In the hope that you'll forgive me, here's a nice long chapter. With stuff in it.**

 **LL x**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had a telephone. She knew that now. But she didn't know his number.

The one strange thing about living in the magical world was that communication was archaic at best. Owls, cute as they may be, were not as instant as texting.

Hermione suspected he'd only got a phone to implement his telephone box stunt.

She didn't mind, but now she wanted to get in touch immediately and she couldn't.

She'd sent owls. She got no reply. She'd scoured the halls of the Ministry, hung out in Diagon Alley. Nothing.

He was provoking her.

She admired his self-restraint. It was clear from their conversation that his desire for her was every bit as extreme as hers for him. But he had patience, she grudgingly acknowledged.

It would have to happen soon or she would go mad. She could think of nothing else. She dreamt of him, ached for him, desperately masturbated several times a day to assuage the dull throbbing lust which gripped her with such force she could barely eat.

And then, at last, something gave.

As she arrived at her desk one morning a week after the phone conversation, she found a parchment, a small scroll with an ornate border, tied in ribbon. She suspected it was an invitation; it was. She opened it quickly and read.

 _The Minister for Magic requests the company of Miss Hermione Granger and guest_

 _at the Wizards and Witches Benevolent Society Annual Charity Auction_

 _to be held at Malfoy Manor on February 4_ _th_ _at 3pm._

 _With gracious thanks to Mr Lucius Malfoy for use of the Manor._

She nearly scoffed aloud. How quickly did those with wealth and influence inveigle their way back into society? It was only a few years before that Lucius Malfoy had narrowly avoided permanent incarceration in Azkaban. It was only a few years before that his house – now playing host to a gathering of the great and the good of the wizarding world – had been the Dark Lord's headquarters.

Still, as things stood now, Hermione Granger was not complaining.

-xoOox-

Hermione dispensed with the 'and guest'. Ron and she didn't do that sort of thing any more, even as friends, and Harry was too shacked up with Ginny for tongues not to start wagging if she turned up with him. In any case, she hoped that as the evening wore on the concept of being alone would have altered somewhat.

She dressed with crisp, clean seduction in a deep red cotton shift dress which clung round her curves like a snake to its prey. A little more eye make-up, a deeper lipstick than usual, hair silkily tamed for once but flowing down her back: it was fun making an effort again.

Hermione smiled at herself in the mirror. She was ready.

-xoOox-

She apparated to just beyond the gates leading to the Manor. There was a long drive, but she was happy to walk and wasn't sure how she'd feel about going there again. After all, the last time she'd been there it had been in the hands of Voldemort. The last time she'd been there was at the height of the war.

The last time she'd been there she'd been imprisoned and tortured.

But as she walked up towards the imposing Elizabethan façade, its high leaded windows casting a glow over the broad courtyard, she settled somewhat. She could, for the first time, appreciate what an exquisitely beautiful building it was. The history of it struck her hard. Surely not everyone who'd occupied it had been prejudiced supremacists? She smiled to herself. Was the man she wanted more than anything still himself a prejudiced supremacist? Presumably he wouldn't have fingered her, a Muggle born, to a perfect orgasm if he were.

Hermione arrived at the front door and rang the bell. The door opened silently and without aid. She hesitated briefly. A frisson of apprehension ran through her, but nothing more. The house was buzzing with conversation and contentment. And he would be here. She shook her lingering anxiety off and walked in, head held high.

She soon came across various work colleagues, including the Minister.

'Hermione. No one with you?' greeted Shacklebolt, kissing her on both cheeks.

'Not today.'

'You look stunning.' He smiled. 'Minerva's here, did I tell you?'

'Really?' Her eyes widened in shock. 'I wouldn't have thought she'd ever deign set foot in this place.'

'Well, I wasn't sure you'd come either. This house can't hold happy memories for you.' He frowned sympathetically.

'No, but …' She glanced around at the panelled walls and the portraits of wizards and witches stretching along them. They were all blond, she noted, but none of them looked especially nasty. Most were smiling warmly at the assembled guests. 'I don't know. Time has moved on. Things change. It isn't the house's fault what happened here. I'm sure it's happy to be free of all that.'

'Exactly.' He chuckled. 'But it's just like you to ascribe emotion to an inanimate thing!'

She returned his laugh. A waiter came by with a tray of drinks and she reached for a glass of champagne gladly. She took a sip and glanced around. 'Is Lucius Malfoy around? I should thank him for hosting.'

'Hmm, somewhere. That would be good of you. The more he knows we're making an effort with him, the more he'll hopefully make an effort with us. Although, to give him credit, he has not put a foot wrong since his trial. He is, if I say so myself, a model citizen.'

She gave a wry smirk and sipped her champagne. 'He knows which side his bread is buttered on. Always has.'

'Well, whatever motivates him, long may it continue.'

Kingsley was caught in conversation with the head of Gringotts and Hermione drifted off, mingling with others. She had a chat to McGonagall, who was only here on sufferance, she said, as the charity had promised a supply of new broomsticks for Hogwarts.

Hermione laughed at her unflabbable, prickly stubbornness. As her eyes moved around the room, they fell on someone on the other side. Lucius Malfoy.

Immediately, she was in need. Immediately, her belly writhed and her breath caught. He was talking quite warmly with the editor of the Daily Prophet and hadn't seen her. She couldn't help but stare.

'Are you alright, dear?' McGonagall stopped and turned her head to where Hermione was looking. 'Oh. Malfoy. That snake in the grass. Why they chose to hold this thing here is beyond me. I offered Hogwarts, but they have a programme of so-called Positive Reformation, as they call it. Apparently, us using a Death Eater's house is going to eradicate his hatred and prejudice.' She laid a hand on Hermione's arm. 'Are you sure you're alright? I know what happened to you here. I know what that man allowed to happen to you under his own roof. It must be a shock to see him again, and here of all places. Oh, the things you must want to do to him!'

If only her former Headmistress knew exactly what she wanted to do to him.

'Yes …' she murmured, her mind full of visions of kneeling before Lucius Malfoy sucking on his cock for all it was worth.

McGonagall took her arm and guided her into another room, saying, 'Come.'

 _I wish_ , thought Hermione.

Now she was bored. There followed an hour or so of mind-numbing conversation with various dignitaries. She smiled, she small-talked, she laughed at their tepid jokes and flattered their egos. She tried not to glance obviously over their shoulders whenever she caught a glimpse of Lucius. She rarely did.

Boredom turned to frustration. She wanted everyone to disappear. Slowly, after the interminable auction, where Lucius was barely discernible amidst a sea of heads, they started to.

She hung around. Shacklebolt offered to share a floo, McGonagall invited her back to Hogwarts for the night. At any other time, she would have jumped at the chance. Not tonight.

'Thank you, but I just need to see someone about my bid,' she smiled, kissing her old Head warmly in farewell.

Everyone left. Everyone except Hermione. She lurked in the hall, she idly sauntered down the corridors, studying the portraits, hoping, waiting. It grew late. He could be patient. So could she. At around 9 o'clock, long after the house grew silent, she found herself alone in a corridor off the main hall. She studied a painting of the mountains near Hogwarts to try to distract herself.

'Miss Granger.'

She smiled at the voice behind her and turned as slowly as she could. 'Mr Malfoy. How very generous of you to host today.'

'One does try,' he drawled.

'Yes, especially when complete exoneration and reacceptance is on the cards.'

'Quite.'

His eyes fell down her body then back up. With anyone else she would have felt defiant shame, but with him, she let him. She'd dressed partly for him, after all.

'I like your dress.'

'Thank you.' She nearly blushed. There was something about his tone that made her feel naked.

'Everyone else has gone. I half expected you to leave with the Minister.'

'Why would I do that?'

He paused briefly before stating, 'He wants you.'

She laughed aloud. 'Don't be silly!'

'Can't you tell?'

She crossed her arms. 'Well, if he does, he's too much of a gentleman to do anything about it.'

'Whereas I …' He let his sentence hang.

'I'm not complaining,' she smirked before pacing slowly along the corridor, stopping at a particularly striking portrait of a blond witch wearing a high ruff. 'Who's this?'

'My great, great, and several more besides, grandmother, Hortensia Philomena Malfoy. She was, apparently, the lover of Robert Catesby.'

She glanced at him with interest. 'Catesby? The leader of the Gunpowder Plot? And there I was thinking he was a good Catholic.'

'A passionate Catholic, clearly with strong needs, which she ably provided for, I understand.'

'She's stunningly beautiful.'

'Of course. She's a Malfoy.'

She rolled her eyes and glared at him. 'Your arrogance knows no bounds.'

'Thank you.'

She turned fully towards him and said plainly, 'I've been waiting, Malfoy.'

'For what?'

'You know what. I told you in the phone call to hurry up.'

He pouted nonchalantly. 'The moment had to be right.'

She steadied herself and looked into him. 'And is it right now?'

He looked down at her, his eyes bright, his mouth straight but hinting at a smile. But as she stepped in to curl her arms around his neck, he moved away from her. 'Follow me.'

Lucius set off down the corridor and she had to trot to catch him up. He walked past the reception rooms where the auction had taken place and crossed to a door she noticed had been closed all day. She knew where it led. She had tried to ignore it.

He glanced back at her and then, rather than opening it magically, he produced a large key and placed it in the lock. With another look at her, any amusement now gone, he turned it and pushed the door open.

She hesitated.

'Go in,' he said, flicking his wand. Light emanated from the room, now alight with candles.

A shiver ran through her. 'What if I don't want to?'

'You will because you're curious.'

She grew uncertain for the first time and swallowed hard. 'I'm here, Lucius. What more do you want?'

'The same as you.'

She sighed deeply and considered turning on her heels and leaving, but Hermione was nothing if not determined in the face of a challenge. Face her fears. Face her truth. He was right. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room.

She remembered instantly. It looked exactly the same. She remembered the high backed chairs by the fire. She remembered the tables. There were no portraits in here. Voldemort had removed them during his time in the house. Lucius had not replaced them as he had done elsewhere. She glanced around. There. It had been there, near the fire place. The exact place where she had lain as Bellatrix Lestrange crucioed her. She waited for the horror to return. It didn't. In fact, she felt nothing. Nothing at all. She just felt empty.

Footsteps approached behind her. 'Do you recognise this room?' he asked.

'Of course.'

'You can leave. I'm not keeping you.'

'I know that.'

'I haven't changed it since then. I avoid it.'

'Oh.'

'Oh?' he queried, confused by her flat response.

She shrugged. 'I don't care what you have or haven't done.'

He looked around, as if learning the place again. 'It's strange for me to be in here too.' She believed him when he said he avoided it.

'So why do it?' she asked, not in anger but curiosity.

'Because … don't you see … it has to be here.'

'What has to be here?'

'What will happen, inevitably, inexorably and utterly perfectly.'

Hermione turned to him and stepped up boldly, wanting him to voice it. 'Tell me, Malfoy.'

'You know what I will do to you, right here, and right now.'

'Here?'

'Of course, here.'

His audacity staggered her and she resented the fact that he'd said it rather than her and so she countered with, 'I hate you.'

'Good.'

'Good?' Now he did anger her.

'Use it.'

She brought her hand up instantly, barely thinking, to strike him, but he darted his own up just as swiftly and stopped it, grabbing her wrist hard.

'You would hit me?' His eyes narrowed but a hint of a smile played on his lips.

'You told me to use my anger.'

'You know how I meant.'

' _Not here_ ,' she stressed.

'Yes, here, there is nowhere else.' He released her wrist but leaned into her, so close, his sweet breath clouding her senses, so close his physical immediacy made her weak with desire. Immediately, the strength of her unfulfilled lust reawakened. It pained her to have him near her and not inside her. But she stared into him and heard him out. 'This is us, Hermione, our place, the place we are connected like nowhere else.'

She searched his eyes and read complete honesty in them. She was beginning to understand.

'You think I stood by that day and felt nothing?' he continued. 'You think I enjoyed what was happening to you?'

'Yes.' She suspected he actually hadn't, but she wanted to goad him into a full disclosure.

He smirked, a wry, twisted smirk. 'No. That day was the worst I can remember, save only for the day when I thought I would lose my son. To see you lying there at the hands of my sister-in-law, that crazed, demented bitch … it made me doubt all I was. It made me question … for the first time … here, right here.'

'I don't believe you,' she stated.

'Look at me!'

She stared into him and again only open truth came back at her. He said with such intense clarity she could only believe him, 'You did that. You. Right here.'

'Lucius …'

'And I have thought of nobody else since. You seeped your way into my conscience then and I have not shaken you from it. Connection. Catharsis. Here and now. This is where we start it.'

Her belly practically screamed at being denied him. Never had desire been so obvious, so visceral as to pound through her blood like a drug, writhe inside her like a wild beast clawing for release. 'I still want you. Even here. I want you so much. I want you so fucking much.' Her last words were a sob.

'Then have me.' He took a step backwards, waiting.

She stood, watching him openly and boldly. And right in the place where Bellatrix Lestrange had hurled the Cruciatus curse at her time and again, she began to undress.

Not breaking her gaze, she slowly but surely reached for the zip at the side of her dress and slid it down. She took hold of the shoulder straps and pushed them off. The dress fell to her hips. Hermione noted his eyes flick to her breasts, cupped lazily in the deep blue satin of her bra. She brought her hands to her hips and pushed, wriggling a little to work the material down over the swell of her body. His mouth fell open.

She had made an effort today. Stockings. Not her usual attire but clearly one that had its uses on occasion. She let him look for a moment as she stood there in his desolate drawing room in only bra, knickers, stockings and heels. From the rise and fall of his chest, it was clear what effect it was having. For a moment she forgot where she was. He remained infuriatingly fully clothed.

But her need to carry on compelled her to reach behind and release the clasp of her bra. She let it fall to the floor and stood there, her top naked, her nipples hardening as the sudden cooling air caught them.

Then she lifted a leg, hardly breaking eye contact with him and unstrapped one shoe, kicking it from her. Then the other. Then one stocking, rolling it as slowly as she dared off her leg and letting it slip into a puddle of silk at her feet. The other followed. Then at last her knickers. She slipped her fingers in, pushed them down over her hips and wriggled out of them. She stood back up, naked and in desperate need. She was in pain. She was empty. It must happen.

'Here I am, Malfoy.'

He approached her and at first it was only her face which seemed to exist to him. He stared at her, poring over her, almost detached, as if he was entirely alone in his study of her, as if she was barely a participant in it. But soon his hand came up and cupped her face, gently at first, his thumb stroking over her, and he bent his head and kissed her.

At the first contact of his lips she groaned, her desire flaring, molten hot. But she let him kiss her, slow, open-mouthed, his tongue questing, searching, discovering. When his other hand cupped her breast, she pushed into him, willing him to find the nipple: her delight, her love. She could go from cold disinterest to fuck-ready at one touch of her nipples.

And he did it. His thumb stroked up her breast and then grazed the hardened tit, just a little, just enough to send a jolt of desire to blind her. He did it again, concertedly now, flicking back and forth, and she responded by taking his bottom lip in hers and sucking before pulling off with a laugh and a sharp inhalation. He read her instantly as his thumb and forefinger closed around the nipple and rolled it, tweaked, pinched and pulled.

'Oh, she likes it,' he purred.

'I fucking love it. More,' she implored. He pinched. Hard. She sucked in as pain quickly morphed into blinding bliss and laughed at the intoxicating pleasure of it. 'How I fucking love it!'

She kissed him again so hard she drew blood. She tasted it between them but only sought more. And now she was scrabbling at his clothes, desperate to tear them from him and expose his rawness.

He helped, pulling off his jacket, undoing buttons in hasty fingers. Soon his shirt was off and his torso naked before her. She gazed at him. His chest was smooth, defined, his arms powerful, the muscles corded and fluid. 'You're beautiful,' she murmured and pressed herself into him, kissing over the newly naked flesh as if trying to imprint it onto her.

He let her, but his fingers were undoing his belt, undoing his buttons, and his trousers soon fell away. Like before, he wore no underwear. He reared out, as magnificent as she'd remembered, as she'd dreamt of every day since he'd entered her consciousness again.

'Want you, want you, want you,' she murmured, taking hold of his cock, running her hand over the head, desperate to feel him again.

' _Not – yet_.'

She moaned.

He held her wrist and pulled her hand off him, but then quickly brought his own between her legs where he found her dripping and hot.

'Ohh!' she gasped, fearful she would come instantly, but he deftly avoided her clit. 'Don't make me come yet, don't, please! I want you inside me. I want to come with you inside me. Please, _please!_ '

He smirked. He enjoyed her begging him, she could tell. 'I won't let you come. Quite. But I'm going to bring you so close, so perilously, dangerously close, that you will be in an agony of expectation.'

She sobbed. Two long Death Eater fingers were deep up inside her pussy. 'You really are the most succulent thing, Miss Granger, aren't you?'

He fucked them in and out of her, avoiding the most sensitive parts but making her feel every nudge of his knuckles, every thrust of his fingers.

'Yes, yes, Malfoy, I'll take you and keep you.'

'Keep me?' His eyebrows quirked up as he drew out his fingers to drag them idly through the soaking valley of her lips up towards her clit. He grazed it, barely, but it made her buck on him and shudder. She threw up a hand to his shoulder and shook her head in torment, fighting back the threatening orgasm.

'Don't you dare,' he warned.

'No, no, I don't want to, I don't want to, not yet, but … but …' She instinctively tried to find his touch, to grind onto it. His fingers were eagerly back inside her, high, so high he grunted as he angled them up and under her. 'Oh, that's good, that's so good, so good, so good.' Her head was back, her mouth open, eyes closed. She worked her body on him, just the two fingers high in her cunt, but she let him play her as she played him. 'Oh, more, more, please more.'

'More what?'

'More full.'

'Not enough?'

'No.'

He added another finger. 'What a welcoming cunt you have.'

'Yes, yes, I want you to disappear into me, right up into me.'

He chuckled but continued to ply his fingers inside the Muggle-born witch. His other hand then returned suddenly to her tit, stroking gently at first, but when he found the nipple again and pinched she moaned.

'Look at me,' he demanded. She opened her eyes, bleary as they were, and bit her lip, trying to focus. His thumb and forefinger tightened on her nipple. He smirked, reading her desperate attempt to hold on.

'That's … that's …' she sobbed.

'What?'

'Too much. I can't hold back if you do that. Oohh!' she wailed, pulling back so hard her nipple was dragged out excruciatingly in his fingers before he released it. 'Ow!' she cried but was drawn back towards him by the tugging fingers in her cunt. She'd narrowly avoided the most cataclysmic orgasm.

'Oh, so close, Miss Granger.'

'Please stop fingering me. I love it too much. Please, please, stop it.' But her body told another story as she ground harder and harder on his hand.

He laughed again. 'By all means.' And suddenly his fingers were withdrawn, gone. And she was empty. Real tears pricked at her eyes in frustration.

'I want you inside me, want you, want you,' she sobbed.

He approached her yet again and kissed her, softly this time, so softly that she forgot her torment and sighed into him. 'Beautiful kisser,' she murmured as he broke away at last from her mouth and grazed down her neck.

'Hm,' he hummed against her skin. 'Beautiful.'

He was guiding her to one of the high-backed chairs by the fire. She lay across it, splayed, her limbs askew. Hermione tried to move into a more comfortable position but he took hold of her ankles, drawing one leg over the arm, pulling her so that her hips were raised onto it and the other leg was angled down to the floor. Her pussy was open, inviting, pleading, but just as she thought he'd take it with his cock, he knelt, and she knew what he would do.

'Nooo!' she cried out in protest. 'No! I can't stand it! I can't!'

Lucius merely smirked as he knelt, his head between her legs.

'A woman asking me not to go down on her? That's a first,' he chuckled, before parting her lips and exposing her. 'That is quite possibly the ripest clit I've ever seen,' he observed.

'Don't touch it! Don't lick it! Please! I'll come instantly! I'll come! I want to, I want to, I want to, but I can't! I won't!'

He laughed again and she almost thumped him. 'Oh, Miss Granger, what a paradox you are. I do believe you have utterly confounded yourself.'

' _Please, please!_ ' She thrashed her head and tried to push up from the chair and away. He was right. She had gone mad. She didn't know what she wanted, what she needed but him. Him, him, him. She wanted him. Any of him. All of him.

He prevented her escape and she slackened quickly. 'I will taste you and I will know you. I have waited too long. But remember,' he crooned, his teasing tones driving her to the brink of insanity, 'don't you dare come.'

And he bent his head and licked her.

She screamed. Her head fell back over the other arm of the chair and she threw a hand down to his head, clasping her fingers through his blond locks in desperation. Oh, that was good. Beyond good. His tongue, his mouth, on her, in her. He forced his tongue right up into her cunt, sucking in her ever-flowing juices, then out again, down to her perineum where he teased the puckered little hole. She groaned and ground onto him, grunting out through her bewildering joy, 'You fuck! You fuck!'

'For you, anything,' he replied before sweeping his tongue up. He caught her clit, slightly, barely, but it was enough to send a warning shot of pleasure blasting through her. She pushed herself up awkwardly in the chair, trying to move away from him again. But his hands held her there, and the fight left her quickly.

'Fuck, that was close! I'm so close, I can't think about it. If I even think about it, I'll come,' she sobbed. He just licked her again, avoiding her clit deftly this time, but still exacting such delicious focused sensation through the valley of her cunt lips that she wailed. 'Lucius! Please! _Please!_ '

He was sucking her out, his mouth attached to her opening, sucking, licking. She threw a hand down and scrabbled at his head, trying to pull him off her, but she couldn't. She gave up and slackened, rejoicing in the perfection of him. She was crying, tears running down her cheeks at the agony of restraint, at the beauty of what he was doing to her.

At last, he raised himself up. He stood tall, staring down at her from his full height. His cock was gloriously erect, full, long, thick, dripping with his own need. She stared from it to his face.

He looked at her. 'I'm going to fuck you now.'

She remembered the pain again, the pain of the Cruciatus curse. She was in pain now and it confused her. The torment of not having him inside her, the agony of her lust being unmet was tearing at her, twisting her. Her clit throbbed, her pussy ached, the depth of her cunt was heavy with saturated need.

She nodded for him. He held out a hand to her and she took it. Malfoy pulled her to her feet and she stumbled a little back to the place, the exact place, the precise spot where she had been tortured all those years ago.

But the pain was nothing to what she needed now, what she knew would make it all right, all perfect. Lucius took her by the arms and guided her to the floor. He'd said he'd fuck her first time on the floor because she wouldn't be able to fall away from him there. He could take her and she would be grounded.

'No more waiting,' he said, locking eyes with her.

She shook her head. 'Into me. Fast. Hard. You know, don't you? I need to feel all of you instantly.'

'I know.'

He glanced down, holding his cock, positioning himself. She spread her legs wide for him because it had to be complete immediately.

'Now,' he said.

'Now,' she repeated.

And he drove forward. And he filled her.

'Ohhh!' she screamed. Oh, that was big. So big. He'd impaled himself fully, completely: hard long cock right inside her in one go. It hurt because it was sudden and hard, but it was instantly good hurt, the hurt of completion, the hurt of fullness, of emptiness suddenly and inextricably being made whole. 'Yesss,' she hissed, locking eyes with him and clenching on the cock embedded high up inside her.

'There,' he said, and his Adam's apple lurched along his neck. 'And, fuck, that is perfection.'

'Do it again. Harder.'

His eyes creased a little at her demand, but he pulled out completely, held himself at her entrance and then, with a grunt of brutal determination, ploughed straight back in, making her back buckle in the process. She cried out again, wordless, and brought up her hands to cling to his back.

He withdrew again and powered forward with the same violent need. Her fingers clenched on his back instinctively and her nails scratched. He hissed and so she did it again and he responded by fucking into her even harder. She laughed as his cock inhabited her totally.

'You were right,' she said, gripping him tight.

'What?' he muttered, words almost lost as her cunt worked him.

'Here, now. Catharsis.'

His mouth ticked into a smile, and despite the brutality of their coupling, she adored him for it. He dipped his head and kissed her.

'Now, please, Lucius Malfoy … fuck a come from me.'

He smirked and replied, 'Gladly.'

And he started to move, steadily, still hard, still with emphatic determination. Her body, as primed as it was, would not withstand it long. But now, with him inside her at last, there was no need to wait.

'Tell me. Speak to me,' he said, almost imploring.

He thrust two more times and her patient, longing little body could stand no more. It started low, a prickle centred around the shaft of his cock where it nudged her clit, but spread rapidly to feed off the hard flesh surging through her. It was going to shatter her.

'Ohhh, now,' she began, 'I'm coming. I'm coming, I'm coming, Lucius, I'm coming.' She almost panicked, as the orgasm which was building was going to be so blinding, so overwhelming that she wondered if she could survive it. She clung to him as pleasure took hold fully, ransacking her mind, holding her body hostage in long seconds of rolling, swelling ecstasy. If he hadn't been on top of her, her body would have jerked and spasmed across the floor, but his cock pinned her to the ground and so she took it all, absorbing it deep in her bones. And she loved it.

And then, him. 'Yes, yes, now,' he moaned, low and guttural, 'coming into you, take it, take it, take me.'

He braced himself on strong arms and tried to stare down at her, but the force of his own orgasm forced his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open to release a wordless groan. He burst into her, hot, milky white shots plugged up into her by the pulsing length of his cock.

For a while she lay there, staring up at the ceiling while Lucius slumped panting atop her. He remained deeply embedded and the thought of him falling from her filled her with dread. She stroked his back, feeling the scratches she'd imparted earlier.

After a time, he lifted himself a little and, with the gentlest smile, dipped his head and kissed her so sweetly she clung to him.

'Lucius,' she said, barely away from his kisses, 'promise me one thing.'

'Hm?' he asked, returning to her mouth before letting her continue.

'Don't leave me this time.'

He raised his head a little and cocked an eyebrow in query.

'Every time we've done anything before, you've always just given some sarcy comment and legged it.'

'Legged it?' he frowned. 'I don't even know what that means.'

'You've walked off, leaving me in an alleyway or my office or something. Don't do that now.'

He smirked. 'Would a trip up to my bedroom be a better idea?'

'That sounds like the perfect idea.'

* * *

 **I have come to the conclusion that I will never want to stop writing the deepest, dirtiest, most depraved sex for these two. So if it's alright with you, I'm just gonna carry merrily on doing just that.**

 **Your ideas, by the way, are outstanding and inspirational. Watch this space. Thoughts on this chapter? LL xx**


	6. Knees

**Oh, you are a lovely patient lot. I asked on my FB page which of my (ridiculous number of - the shame!) WIPs you'd like, and this was one of the two most requested. So here we are. LOVED writing it. ;-)**

 **Let's just say, it really is NSFW, and I would recommend being alone in a locked room or with a partner when you read this, but if you are reading on the bus, or train, or in a cafe ... go ahead. I dare you. ;-)**

 **Enjoy. Lots of love. LL x**

* * *

She slept at the Manor that night.

Admittedly, no actual sleep took place.

Lucius had a large bedroom, complete with four poster bed, bureau, several chairs, chest etc. Hermione became acquainted with all these items of furniture as one day moved into another, whether lying across them, leaning over them, braced against them or sprawled along them.

She lost track of the number of comes she had. She lost track of how many times he came inside her.

Finally, when time urged them to come to their senses, he spilt his load one last time inside her as Hermione lay sprawled across his bed. The duvet was on the floor. The under sheet was half off, the pillows were flung across the room.

And suddenly she remembered she was supposed to be at a meeting at the Ministry at 10am.

'What time is it?' she panted, running her fingers idly along his spine and pushing his hair out of her mouth as he lay hot and heavy on top of her.

Lucius lifted a bleary blond head and glanced at the clock. '9:45.'

'Great. I'm supposed to be in a meeting in fifteen minutes,' she sighed. 'I'm well and truly fucked.'

'You certainly are.' He scoffed out a laugh against her and she joined in until they were both laughing helplessly. He fell from her in the process and she was so slick with his come that she wondered how she was going to make it to the bathroom without it flooding out onto his Persian rugs.

'I need a shower, urgently. Do you have any tissues?'

He handed her one.

'Can I have the box? You've filled me.'

He smirked. 'And you, Miss Granger, have emptied me.'

'Don't say that.'

'I thought you'd be pleased to hear it.' He pushed himself up onto his elbows as she wriggled her way off the bed.

'Depends how you mean,' she mused, looking over at him with a smirk. He lay there, sex damp, his eyes glowing with post-coital excess, his beautiful body corded and taut. 'You are so bloody sexy,' she mused.

'Likewise,' he added, casting his eyes over her body.

She was stuffing tissues between her legs. She laughed aloud. 'Ha! Even like this?'

'Especially like that.'

'Seriously, I have to run. Do you reckon I can shower, dress and apparate to the Ministry in ten minutes?'

'Of course. It's you.'

She smiled and disappeared into his bathroom.

Hermione emerged a few minutes later and quickly set about gathering up her clothes which were scattered across various parts of the room.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit!' she hissed, dashing madly about, throwing on her red dress from the night before. 'How the fuck do I turn up wearing this?!'

He reached for his wand, muttered, ' _Mutari Vestamenti_ ,' and she found herself changed into a dark green work dress which she would have snapped up at the first opportunity in a boutique. She studied herself with a satisfied smirk in the mirror. 'Green, Lucius?'

'Hmm. Suits you,' he purred.

She coiled her hair haphazardly on her head and rubbed on some lip balm. 'That'll have to do.'

'Oh, it does, believe me. When can I see you again?'

She smiled at his query. 'What are you doing over the next few days?'

'You.'

'Don't be a twat.'

'I want you.'

'You've just had me … a lot. And I have to go now.' She crossed to the bed and kissed him. 'Thank you. I'll see you … soon.'

'Soon.'

And she apparated to the Ministry.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione was 'on time' for her meeting. Shacklebolt eyed her curiously as she sat down with a flustered smile.

It would be fair to say that she didn't concentrate on much during the meeting. Her mind went over the events of the previous night and her body sulked. It wanted him again. It screamed at having been so connected to someone and then suddenly robbed of them.

Kingsley called her over at the end of the meeting. 'We'll move forward on those measures immediately, Hermione. When do you think would be a suitable time to go public?'

'Umm … next month?'

'Ah. I was thinking tomorrow.' His brows creased.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. 'Tomorrow, yeah, fine then, fine.'

'Are you alright, Hermione?'

'Yes,' she replied, instinctively pressing her legs together and missing Lucius between them.

'You seem a little …'

'What?' She managed not to say 'shagged out?' aloud.

'Distracted.'

'Oh, I've got various things going on. Things are up and down at the moment.' (A bit like Lucius' cock, she mused.)

'More up than down, I hope?'

'Oh, definitely,' she beamed. Definitely.

'Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where I am.'

'Thanks, Kingsley. And, yes, tomorrow will be great for that announcement. Don't hang around.' She finished decisively and threw him a beaming smile.

-xxoOoxx-

Hermione returned to her office, hoping he'd visit. He didn't.

She paced the corridors, expecting a glimpse of him. She saw nothing.

No messages. No owls. No visits to phone boxes.

Bastard! She thought he wanted her. He was the one asking when they'd parted.

Now her body ached. It had been seven hours without him. She missed his mouth. She missed his hands. She missed his cock.

She didn't sleep much that night either, but for very different reasons to the previous night. She resisted touching herself. She remembered. And she longed.

The next day was work as usual. If he could wait, so could she.

Luckily for Hermione, she would not have to wait long.

-xxoOoxx-

After lunch, she met Prunella Milderghast in the corridor. Prunella, head of Magical Object Inventories, insisted right there and then on going through every detail of the new measures on historical artefacts due to come into effect. Prunella was competent and efficient and spoke in a monotone which would lull any insomniac to sleep. Hermione nodded and smiled, smiled and nodded, finding it harder to focus on which amendment had been passed and which needed additional clearance and which ...

And then she saw him.

Lucius had just emerged in the corridor about fifteen feet away and turned and looked straight at her. She stared back and immediately she wanted.

But Prunella still droned on.

'I think it's only a matter of time before the Muggle Prime Minister realises how these things could affect everyday life. I mean, the government really does need to –'

'Prunella.'

'Yes?' Her colleague stopped in her tracks, eyes wide with indignant confusion.

'That's fantastic. Well done. Thank you. I have to go, sorry, bye.'

And, leaving her colleague alone in the middle of the hallway, she walked towards him. They met but neither spoke. He had his infuriating half-smile on his face and stood imperiously tall and impassive.

She would give as good as she got, and so she turned and walked away from him down a side corridor. There were fewer people around but the occasional person still walked past. She heard steady footsteps behind her and the click click click of his cane tapping the ground.

She wasn't sure where she was going or why. She turned two more corridors leading into a corner used as a service area. It was tucked away but not secure.

She could go no further and turned around. Slowly, deliberately, he approached her. She crossed her arms. 'You really need to give me your number.'

'Number?'

'Phone. Mobile. I know you've got one.'

'Ah, but that would eliminate the element of surprise. Anticipation, Miss Granger, is not to be squandered.'

He stepped closer and cocked his head slightly to the side. He appraised her. She stood quite still, arms still crossed.

He was wearing a black suit, daringly Muggle-like, she thought, but which suited him impeccably. Lucius studied her silently for a while and then leaned his cane against the wall.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

He gave his answer by reaching down to find the hem of her skirt and tugging it up just enough to let his hand slide up underneath. 'This,' he answered.

'Not here,' she warned, although her hand, fingers splayed on the wall behind as need made her body tense and alert, told a different story.

'Yes, here.'

His fingers were at the elastic of her knickers and slid inside with barely a pause, grazing down to run lightly over her clit then down further to be coated in her already seeping juices.

'Not here,' she reiterated but instinctively pressed into his touch.

'I missed your cunt,' he said with factual insouciance.

'Fuck you, Lucius,' she hissed but grabbed his wrist, urging him to find any part of her he could.

'Exactly. Tell me what you want.'

She swallowed hard, glancing towards the corridor, half-expecting to be discovered at any moment. But still she said, 'Two fingers inside me.'

He smirked and rolled her knickers down her hips. She wriggled them off and stepped out of them, leaving them in a crumpled crease on the floor. His hand was back and he did as he was told, pushing his forefinger and middle finger up inside her to the first knuckle.

She bit her lip distractedly and pushed down onto them. 'Higher. Harder.'

With a grunt he angled them right up, straight and deep, and she worked herself on them, fucking his fingers right there against the wall. They could hear voices in the corridor beyond, hear the staccato chink of footsteps on the hard floors of the Ministry.

He scissored his fingers, pumped them with rhythmic certainty, rubbed and stroked and pressed, and she gasped. 'Yes!' But her cry was muffled as he silenced her with his mouth, kissing her, slow and lazy as his hand shifted to a similar tempo: languid, indolent, indulgent finger fucking.

She sighed into his mouth and flexed her pussy muscles on him, wanting to keep him inside, wanting to suck him right up, wanting more and more and all of him.

But then, knowing her, wanting her, he sank down onto the floor and pushed her skirt right up over her hips. Hermione spread her legs apart and pushed back on the wall to brace herself. Mouth open to gulp in air, she knitted her fingers through his hair and held his head hard. Grasping him under the chin, she turned his head up to look at her. His eyes were harsh with certainty.

'Do it.' She did not request, she did not query. She demanded. Her body demanded him.

Hermione pulled his head against her. Tongue and lips found her clit almost instantly. He licked, slow, long, steady licks which focused her mind and her writhing pleasure. She ground down onto Lucius' mouth, seeking out his tongue, working on him, not allowing him any respite. He didn't seek it.

He took her clit and sucked, hard. But she held back her threatening come; the peril of their situation sent a heady rush of endorphins shooting through her. She stared at the light from the corridor creeping round the corner, listened to the snatches of conversation she could hear while she held Lucius Malfoy's head against her pussy, rejoicing in his nose nuzzling her clit, exulting in the feel of his tongue delving into her snatch.

Her come was building spectacularly, but still she kept it reined in. She whined. She moaned. And in that moment he broke away from her hold forcibly and stood, taking her hands and pinning them above her head. 'Enough!'

'Go back,' she moaned, although she knew what must happen.

'No. Now this.' He withdrew one of his hands to pull at the buckle on his belt but kept the other one encircled on her wrists.

She glanced down and let a lust-crazed smile capture her mouth. 'Hurry.'

'You told me not to do it here,' he slurred but still released his rigid cock without even bothering to take down his trousers.

'I've changed my mind. Fuck me.'

'But it's only been a day and a half, Miss Granger,' he said, stroking his impressive length to goad her with expectation.

'Too long. Fuck me.' She drew her right leg up around his hips, urging him into her.

'Some would say you're insatiable.'

'I don't care. Fuck me, Malfoy.'

The voices in the corridor suddenly grew louder. A group had stopped just where the service passage bent around. If Hermione stepped to the right (not that that was at all possible seeing as she was pinned to the wall by Lucius Malfoy) she would see them and they would see her.

Her eyes widened in panic but Lucius merely smirked and brought a finger to his lips, mouthing to her, 'Not. A. Sound.'

And then, with a lethal combination of exactitude and grace, he nudged his cock up between her cunt lips. She gasped and earned a hand over her mouth in rebuke. 'I told you – Not – a – sound.' He pushed the shaft in deeper so that the full round head of his prick was sucked up into her pussy. She closed her eyes to absorb that glorious sensation of brimming cock as it worked its way into her body.

'Open your eyes,' he whispered. The group was still there, chatting, laughing, perilously, exhilaratingly close.

She forced her eyes open and locked with his. His hand was still clamped over her mouth.

She could have pushed down and taken more of the engorged shaft into her, but she waited for him. With their eyes glued to each other, mere inches apart, he pushed ever higher up into her, parting her giving walls, reaching up into the depths of her sex. When he could go no deeper, he at last relinquished the hold on her mouth. She released a silent breath of profound satisfaction.

'Good?' he whispered. She nodded.

'I'm going to move now.' She nodded again.

He released the hold on her wrists and brought his hands to her arse, drawing her a little off the floor. She curled her legs around him, gripped onto his shoulders and rode him, slowly at first, working his cock indulgently inside her.

His breath came fast and his fingers dug painfully into her rump, but she loved it, rising up before falling down onto the stiff length, feeling it pressing high inside her, stretching, filling, fucking.

He swallowed back his own pleasure and the muscle in his jaw clenched violently. 'Fu -' he started, barely stifling his vocalisation.

She grinned at his abandon and started to move fast, milking his cock almost violently, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

'Faster … harder!' he urged. Braced against the wall, legs locked around him, she bucked and rolled on his cock, sucking his pleasure out with the rich, wet tightness of her body.

The group in the corridor were still chatting only a few feet away when Lucius came. The fingers on her arse clenched, Lucius' mouth dropped open and he pulled in air desperately. His come exploded from him, high, deep into her pussy which spasmed violently with her own orgasm a few moments later.

She brought a hand to his head and pulled him into her, taking his mouth with her own as their climaxes washed through them, building the other's, feeding off it. Her crying gasps were absorbed into him as rapture gripped her body. She always came strongest standing up and if they hadn't been kissing, open and desperate, she would have wailed it out for all to hear.

They fell to the floor. He came out of her in the process, but the intensity of their fucking had taken them both by surprise and they could do nothing else.

At last, the group in the corridor moved on.

All's well that ends well.

'Bloody hell,' she panted. 'Bloody, bloody hell.'

'Something like that,' he agreed, slumping against the wall, eyes closed.

'You'll be the death of me.'

'No, Miss Granger, _you'll_ be the death of _me_.'

'How am I supposed to live a normal life with this going on?'

He turned to her and gave a lazy smirk. 'You are living a normal life. You're at work, aren't you?'

She laughed and hung her head. 'Did you hear those people? They were literally just around the corner. They could have walked in on us at any moment.'

His mouth curled with familiar arrogance. 'And wasn't it fun?'

'Yes,' she could only concede.

He smiled and closed his eyes again, still recovering.

'Lucius?'

'Hm?'

'Don't walk off and leave me this time.'

'I'm not entirely sure I can still walk.'

She pushed herself to her feet, stepped back into her clothes and took her phone out of her inside pocket. 'What's your number?'

He opened one eye. 'Must we?'

'Yes.'

His brows furrowed in annoyance. 'I don't know. I can't remember.'

'Check then.'

With a sigh, he reached into his jacket pocket for his phone and turned it on. 'I'm still getting to grips with this bloody thing. How do I -?'

Before he could fumble any further, she'd grabbed it from him, scrolled through and found what was needed. 'Here. Own number. 07746669269.' She tapped it into her contacts, calling it simply, 'L'. 'Good number. Devil in the middle and sex act at the end.'

'What?' he queried, genuinely confused.

'Nothing,' she smirked, tucking her own phone back into her pocket. 'Now, I've got work to do. Good bye, Mr Malfoy.'

And, for once, it was Hermione Granger who turned and walked away, leaving the former Death Eater slumped on the ground, already wanting more.

* * *

 **Oh yes.**

 **She'll be back, Lucius, don't worry.**

 **Anyone read on the bus? Let me know what you thought no matter what. I LOVE hearing from you. LL xx**


	7. Play

**At last. They will always draw me back, these two. I won't abandon them. Thanks for your patience.**

 **This is pure filth. I needed to write it, so write it I did. I just wish I had me a Lucius. He's a clever, clever boy. Enjoy, lovely lot, and thanks for putting up with my Lumione absence. LL x**

* * *

She went to the manor that night. Hermione was quite proud of herself for managing not to tear his clothes off the moment she entered the door.

They went into the drawing room after dinner and Hermione took time to examine the many paintings. She was still wearing her work clothes but had kicked off her shoes and padded around in stockinged feet.

'Is that a Canaletto?' she asked, studying a scene of Venice.

Lucius glanced up from his position reading on the sofa. 'That one? Yes.'

She turned to him, amazed. 'Seriously? It must be worth a fortune!'

'I suppose. It's been in the family for decades, centuries.'

'Bloody hell, Lucius, it's extraordinary!'

'I'm glad you like it,' he slurred, almost distracted.

She walked around the room, noting other renowned artists' work: Van Eyck, Goya, Rembrandt. Malfoy Manor clearly housed one of the most priceless art collections in private hands.

'I can't believe you have all these.' She tried not to gape.

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked but he said nothing in response. Hermione carried on, studying the works intently, adoring every moment of being surrounded by them.

'You have beautiful tits.' His voice sounded quite unexpectedly in the stillness of the room.

She turned to him with a frown. 'Where the hell did that come from? I'm talking about Canaletto, and you comment on my tits.'

'I'm merely stating the truth. They are a work of art in their own right.'

She couldn't help but enjoy the comment and stepped in slightly closer to him. The particular silk blouse she was wearing fell from her breasts fluidly to highlight their rounded sculpting, she knew that. She would indulge his appreciation.

'You flatterer,' she crooned.

'But you do.' He was staring at them intently and put down his book. 'Let me see them. Remove your top.'

She quirked an eyebrow. If he was going to be a demanding bastard, she would ignore him. 'What if I'm not in the mood?'

He shrugged a little. 'Then I'll wait.'

He sat there and looked at her, his grey eyes burning a path towards her. Hermione turned away, trying to ignore him, but already that omnipresent tingle was rearing its head, this time focused in her nipples, which she could suddenly feel rubbing on the inside of her bra. And he was still staring, she knew it.

She tutted loudly. 'Are you just going to sit there and bloody stare?'

'Why should I not? You're rather delicious to stare at.'

'Because it's bloody rude. Why would you?'

'Like I said, you have the most beautiful tits. I like looking at them, they compel me to. But I won't if you don't want me to.' He picked up his book again and turned his attention to it.

It was her turn to stare. Arms folded, she looked down at him. He now seemed to be reading concertedly and was respecting her wishes. But he was so bloody gorgeous that that familiar sheen of desire was twisting and turning hopelessly. She walked over and came and stood directly in front of him.

Lucius glanced up, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Holding his gaze, she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse and let it fall from her shoulders. She had on a boring work bra, cream with a little bow in the middle. It felt distinctly unsexy but he seemed to be studying her with great intensity nonetheless. Lucius said nothing, but she saw his lips curl up the slightest amount.

Reaching behind, Hermione unhooked the bra and shrugged it from her shoulders, revealing her breasts for him. He looked at them for a while before lifting his gaze to her eyes.

'I thought you said you weren't in the mood?'

'I changed my mind.'

Slowly, he put the book down next to him and stood. Taking a step towards her, he at first said nothing, then, slowly, Lucius brought a hand up and cupped her left breast, gently at first, but she enjoyed the gentle relief as he took the weight in his palm. He rubbed his thumb over it before giving it the softest squeeze, as if to appreciate it more.

'Like I said … beautiful,' he murmured.

He rubbed over the soft flesh until his thumb drew closer to the nipple. When he brushed across it it made her gasp. Even the slightest touch from him did that.

At that he brought his other hand to her right breast and began giving it the same attention as the other. When both thumbs grazed her nipples she sucked in sharply and her eyelids fluttered involuntarily shut.

'You like that?' he asked.

'You know I do.'

He continued, pressing the pad of his thumb onto the nipples and circling them around. Sensation built rapidly and started to radiate out from the delicate points of her tits. This time she moaned.

Now she felt a tightening, and, looking down, saw that he'd taken both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and was pinching. She exhaled slowly as her body adjusted to the sweet pain of it. Soon enough he let go and went back to rubbing and flicking. Then again, pinching and the slightest twist.

'Gods, they're hard now,' he observed. 'You do like that, don't you?'

'Uh huh,' she murmured, pushing her breasts out for him to continue.

He rubbed and pinched and flicked and she stood and took it all as pin pricks of perfect, beautiful feeling dashed from her nipples to throb and hum at her very core.

'Fuck, look at them,' he mused. 'So fucking hard. I could hang my coat on them.'

She simply whined in response.

'Have you ever come from tit play?' he asked.

'What?' she murmured, too intent on what he was doing to focus on speech.

'Have you ever come from someone playing with your tits? Only that? No touch anywhere else.'

'No.'

He let his mouth quirk into a lazy grin. 'Well, as they say … there's a first time for everything.'

She adored her tits being played with during sex, foreplay in particular, but this seemed a step too far. 'I don't think I can.'

'I do.'

With that he moved behind her. With just the palms of his hands he started a rhythmic circling of her nipples. She whined. Hermione craved attention to her tits, but she'd never thought she could come from it. Lucius was a master of making her come quickly; this would take too long, surely. She wasn't sure she had the patience.

'Can I sit down?' she murmured, shifting in his hands.

'No. We'll do this standing up. That way …' He broke off from the circling motion to take hold of the taut nubs and pinch briefly. She sucked in in delicious surprise. '… I can better attend to you.'

Now he'd taken them between thumb and forefinger and began tightening and releasing, tightening, releasing, again and again. Not too hard, but enough for her belly to clench with anticipation.

She let her head fall back with a moan.

'You like it?'

'Of course I like it,' she breathed out, baring her neck for him, hoping he'd drop his head and kiss her, suck, bite … anything. But, no. He was seeing to her tits but no more. If nothing else, he was a man of his word.

Lucius suddenly pinched hard, gripping the nipples almost brutally and tugged them fully out before letting them fall from his grip. 'Ow!' she exclaimed. 'That hurt!'

He simply chuckled. 'Get used to it.'

'You fucking bastard.'

'You know what I mean. Give your body time to adjust, to absorb the sensation, to adapt to it. You know how it works.'

'Do I?'

'If you don't, you soon will.'

She groaned in frustration, but he had taken hold of them again and started to squeeze, gently at first, then tighter, tighter, tighter.

'Breathe,' he murmured.

She did. In through her nose, out through her mouth. He tightened his grip again. The darting, dashing needles pulsed through her breasts. She focused, breathing through the sheen of discomfort until it shifted into a glow of sheer sensation. In, out with her breathing, and the sharpness turned to sweetness, the redness to a purple gleam, and her belly writhed for more.

Hermione released a long breath of perfect satisfaction.

'Good,' he murmured against her ear. 'Good, good girl.'

He at last lessened the grip he had on her and she inhaled as her nipples adjusted to normality again. This time he moved around and when she felt him standing before her she opened her eyes. He was staring at her breasts with complete adoration. Hermione let pride swell through her.

'Such complete perfection,' he muttered, taking them in his hands again and cupping them gently.

Her nipples were dark and rock hard from his attention and now so sensitive she wasn't sure if she wanted him to back away or inflict more on them. The conflict in itself turned her on so much she sighed out with anticipation.

Lucius now took her right breast in both his hands and held it, making it jut out for him. And then, with an almost adoring moan, he lowered his head and licked the lividly taut little nub. She threw her head back with a hiss of sudden feeling. 'Oh fuck!'

He licked again and again, long, hard laves at first, then darted his tongue over the tip. It was beautiful, so beautiful she laughed aloud and brought her hands up to hold onto his head.

He broke off. 'Keep your hands by your sides.'

He was demanding again. She should walk away, push him off and go, but instead she dropped her hands to her sides and stood quite still for him. After all, it did feel so very, very good. He returned to her tit, and this time closed his mouth fully over the nipple and sucked, hard.

Hermione released a sigh of unfettered bliss as her tight flesh was encased in his warm, wet, tugging darkness.

'Fuck, I love that, I love that.'

He hummed against her in response and the vibrations made fabulous things dash through her body.

Eventually, he dragged himself off, letting the nipple pop from his mouth. It was almost raw from his attention and, as the wetness evaporated from it in the cool air, it hardened yet further. But already she craved him back again, but he was moving to the other.

Lucius glanced up. 'Like all things in life, one needs to maintain a balance.' With a smirk, he closed his hands around the other then dropped his head to it.

She almost screamed. She took a step to the side to brace herself against the writhing need at her sex. How glorious the body was, that attention to one tiny little part of it could result in such intensity somewhere quite different.

He glanced up, throwing her a cautionary look. 'Steady.' Then with a frown as he studied the tit in his hands, he started to do what he'd done to its twin: licks, long and hard, back and forth, so that it was dragged along on his tongue, pressed down by it, rasped and laved. Hermione moaned out her love of it; she adored it all and she wanted and needed.

Then came the little flicks as he darted his tongue over the very tip until it tingled and throbbed and made her giggle. Finally, he sucked.

She could disappear into his mouth and she would be happy. As much as she wanted simply to close her eyes and feel, she forced herself to look down, studying the top of his blond head as he attended to her. He sucked hard, tugging and dragging the nipple deep into his mouth. He glanced up and she felt something sharp catch it.

'Ah!' she cried involuntarily, not quite an 'ow' because she liked it too much, but there was the sweetest bite of pain. Lucius looked up, his eyes dark with near malevolence. When he pulled back, she saw the cause of the sharpness: he had the nipple between his teeth.

Confusion turned to certainty and she let her frown of bewilderment melt to a relaxed sigh of contentment. He bit harder and she gasped again but didn't stop him. Holding the nipple between his teeth he drew back, tugging it with him. Hermione focused on her breathing but revelled in the swirling, growing ball of pleasure which grew within her.

With a final move back, Lucius drew off her, the nipple catching through his teeth as he did so and making her cry out again.

She glanced down. Under his crafting, her nipples were harder and larger than before and one still glistened wet from his mouth.

'You are – as I imagined – doing so very well,' he mused.

He immediately proceeded to take the right nipple – the one he'd sucked on first – between his thumb and forefinger so that it was squeezed. That in itself was fabulous and she moaned with the glory of it, but then he rubbed a single forefinger over the pincered tip and at that she cried out.

But he didn't let her escape it. 'Tender?'

She nodded, biting her lip to concentrate.

'Settle down and absorb it. There's good tender and there's bad tender. This is good tender, you know that, don't you?' Still he was rubbing the compressed nipple, still those feelings coiled and dashed through her inescapably. She nodded again. _Good, so, so fucking good._

When her gasps of breath had shifted to breaths of pleasure, he moved to the other and repeated his actions on it. This one – the one he'd bitten down on – was even more sensitive, but this time she took it all and it merely fed the approach of her orgasm, which she was now in no doubt she would achieve.

Lucius at length moved behind her again. 'Now let's finish this. Slowly, mind, we mustn't squander what we've created.' Soon enough he began rubbing in that circular motion again, round and round, this time with his fingertips, a pin sharp sensation right on the ends. She groaned it out and let her head fall back.

'Drift,' he murmured. 'There is no rush. It will happen when you want it.' All the while he circled and rubbed, circled and rubbed.

'Don't go,' she whispered, almost delirious, worried that this perfect feeling would end. 'Don't stop.'

'I won't. I'm here. I am right here on you.'

She did as he asked: she drifted, cocooned in a hazy world of illimitable sensation. He rubbed, he grazed, sometimes he pinched, he tugged and pulled, at times he took them and twisted, but only so that she moaned for more, and all the while he built it up, higher and higher, raising her to the very top from which she would have no choice but to come crashing down.

Her breath became fast and shallow, her moans and whines unceasing.

'Lucius,' she mewled. 'Please …'

He returned to rubbing, pressing on the points of her nipples just enough to roll them in dizzying circles on themselves. It made that perfect glow grow brighter and brighter until she forgot herself.

Rubbing, rubbing, tighter, higher, round and round.

And – 'Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!' She was coming.

It was different, more focused, sharper, as if on a knife edge. _But, oh, it was good!_ And it changed to roll through her, from her pussy up to her breasts, as if seeking more from the hard little buds which had gifted it to her.

She always came hard standing up, and this was no different. Her body became ragged and jerked against him. At this, he steadied her by taking hold of her tits and squeezing the nipples. It surged through her again and she nearly screamed. 'Lucius!'

When it at last left her, he released the hold on her nipples but enclosed her against him. She stared wide-eyed, taking deep breaths as awareness returned.

'Beautiful girl,' he murmured against her ear. 'You see? What did I tell you?'

She reached up a hand to hold him to her but could do little more than smile blissfully. 'Thank you, fucking hell, thank you.'

'Oh, but you are so very inspiring. Now … I find myself in need of some relief.'

Taking hold of her hand, he guided her to lie back on the sofa then knelt across her. Lucius quickly released himself; he was lividly hard and set to burst any minute, she could tell. Hermione opened her mouth to take him but he quickly put her right. 'No. I want to come on your breasts.'

Immediately, he curled his fist around his cock and started pumping. He may have deliberately taken an age to bring her off but he would now seek his own release quickly. Lucius worked his hand over his cock desperately. Instinctively, Hermione cupped her breasts; the nipples were still hard and tight. She took hold of them and squeezed. Again, her body responded and she bucked off the sofa towards him with a moan.

That was all it took. He came explosively, shooting long white streaks of come over her tits. Some landed in her cleavage, some fell just above the nipples. He groaned it out loudly until every last drop of him was squeezed onto her.

When Lucius had recovered enough to speak he glanced down. 'Sit up for me.'

She did so. His come started a slow progress down her breasts, down between them, or down to run over her left nipple.

'You … are pure, beautiful filth,' he observed, still panting, his voice heavy with awe.

She stared up at him. 'And you are my inspiration, Mr Malfoy.'

The corner of his mouth twitched with satisfaction. 'I try.'

She glanced down at her come-covered tits. 'But … you have left me in something of a mess.'

At that, Hermione brought up a hand and caught some of his spunk on her fingers. Not breaking eye contact, she raised the fingers to her mouth and closed her lips around them. She carried on until every drop of him had been swallowed.

He smirked in admiration. 'Like I said … pure filth.'

Hermione at last stood and wrapped herself around him. 'It's amazing what you can achieve when you put your mind to it.'

'And your glorious, brilliant, dirty, _dirty_ mind is one I like very much, Miss Granger.'

He bent his head and kissed her, a long, slow, deep, deep kiss which lasted until they both remembered that life had to carry on.

* * *

 **Ooof.**

 **Loved writing this. Hope you enjoyed reading it. Let me know if you did, or even if you didn't.**

 **Lots of love, LL x (It's not over, btw, I'll be continuing, hopefully more regularly. Plenty more filth to come.)**


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